Journal of Hotaka Satoru: 17 and 11 months to MIA (Edited)
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: In a world where Chosen are determined by lottery, Satoru is closing in on the day where that door will close. But maybe he'd be happier far away from his dream job, not knowing what the life of a Chosen truly was...
1. Part 1

**Note:** Written in edited journal format (ie. someone's typed up what someone else had written, fixed spellings and censored/removed irrelevant or inappropriate material - which is actually an important fact in later chapters). Every . on a line by itself is a marker for when the author left his journal and resumed writing at a later time. That time might be anywhere between seconds and days, but the text will give a better idea of that.

 **Challenges:**  
1\. The what-if challenge, What if being Chosen was a random chance?  
2\. The Valentines to White's Day Advent 2015, day 9 - queen anne's lace (complexity): write in a writing style you have never used before  
3\. The Christmas Wreath Event 2015, wreath: (writing style) letters/diary/journal, chapter 1/first candle: a small amount of blood is somehow spilt (eg. papercut, nosebleed, biting lip etc. - no knife wounds!)

.

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 **Journal of Hotaka Satoru: 17 and 11 months to MIA [Edited]  
**

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It's lottery day again. Maybe my lucky day. Probably not. I'll duck back in when I know the results. I'll ramble in the meantime.

You already know about the lottery, of course. Or maybe the old journal doesn't carry over. So I'll explain again from the beginning - and maybe this time I'll find a hole that'll improve my chances. I'm getting too old to wait.

Everyone's made up of something called DNA, and it's different for everybody. Sort of like a fingerprint, except with thousands of little parts and way too complicated to use as an ID. So they use some complicated algorithm to give us a digital ID instead. That digital ID goes into the lottery too, and more complicated algorithms spit out the winner and they get themselves all sorts of stuff: an enhanced virtual pet partner called a digimon, a chance for adventure and valour and all that other stuff that was hard to come by in the modern age, and a job as a civil servant without having to go through a minimum of two degrees and six years of charity work.

So yeah. Sounds like a great deal, and I want it. Haven't gotten it yet though. Maybe this time'll be different.

Two hours till drawing.

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One hour. Chewed gum, chewed fingernails, and I'm running out of both. And time.

Forgot to mention that the lottery is age-restricted. Hit eighteen and you're out of it. No more chances. I've got two more lotteries until I'm eighteen.

Come on lady luck. Or guy luck or whatever gender luck is.

Fifty-eight minutes. Wow, I'm getting faster at writing.

Oh, who cares?! Time, move faster already! I'm tempted to actually clean the room.

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Room cleaned. Ten minutes left.

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Seven minutes.

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Five minutes.

Nearly there.

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Four minutes. Bit a little too deep and drew blood. A pitiful little bite amount.

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Still four minutes. I may as well recite the commandments to make the clock tick. Or write them, since you're a new journal and all and you wouldn't know them. Anything to make the time pass.

And look at me. I'm talking to you as if you're sentient, and if that wasn't bad enough, I'm writing it all down too.

Anyway, the commandments. Chosen commandments, which don't mean squat if I don't win the lottery these next two times - dammit, why do they have so few slots and so many people vying for a spot?! - but everyone who wants to be a Chosen knows them. And that's most kids, because Chosen are the ones everyone knows about, the ones that get to do cool things...unless you're one of the more academically orientated nerds and would rather sit behind a desk with a computer all day, off your feet...

That's not for me. I can't sit still. I'm writing and pacing and my handwriting's probably horrible but I'm good at multi-tasking (and yeah, I'm a guy. Girls aren't the only ones that can multitask) and my teachers kind of make me keep a journal anyway. Say it's good training for when I don't win the lottery because so few kids win it anyway and you've got to have a back-up plan and faith doesn't help when it's pure luck involved...

Though there's this conspiracy theory going around that some families give large donations to improve the odds for their kids, and that royally sucks. Luck sucks too but I doubt I'd have passed any aptitude test so at least luck equals hope -

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Stupid speakers. Stupid fucking speakers.

Stupid lottery too.

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If the earlier entry wasn't clear enough, my name didn't come up in the lottery. Some eight year old got it. Lucky bugger; it was probably her first lottery.

Since my teachers read this, I better stop there and yell the rest to the empty room.

Back to the homework I hadn't done.

Wistful thinking.

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School sucks. At least half the class are looking at their last few lotteries. A quarter are already out, and the other lucky quarter don't turn eighteen until next year. Or something like that. You know I'm not good at math. Or you should; this was my old math book before I dropped the class. Dad wasn't pleased, but we can pick our own classes from sixteen and that's just what I did.

So yeah. School sucks. Peeps are all stressed or downtrodden 'cause our future's about to be set in stone and all, and maybe the teachers can pity, the ones who wanted to be teachers anyway, but we peeps don't have the time or energy.

I've got a careers meeting scheduled two o'clock.

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Same old, but because my last lottery's coming up, kind of had to pay attention. My options aren't too bright either. What much can you do with arts subjects? Research, writing fiction, painting pictures, drawing manga or designing anime. None of those are particularly high yield because you only get paid if you do a good job and the bar on good has jumped quite high since the world drove into the digital age. And then if you maintained a good record for a number of years and a spot opened up, you could work for the government and showcase the stories they hand to you and get paid a little more.

If it wasn't like that, I don't think I would've minded being a writer. If I couldn't go on adventures, I'd write them. Or something like that. But living on the fringe of doubt? Uurgh. I know people do it but it sounds awful.

More stable options: becoming a teacher (insert gag here), or a recorder. A recorder would be best and one I hadn't considered much - because it meant you followed the Chosen around on their adventures and then recreated, after some editing so the government was sure it was appropriate for public viewing - because it meant following the guys who'd gotten lucky with the lottery and bearing the fact that they were probably laughing at you inside.

But it also mean I'd get to tag along on adventures, which I hadn't thought about too much. I'd get to go to the digital world.

But it's not easy becoming a recorder, either. It's a skills test, but the careers lady thinks I might be able to do it. I can multitask, after all. Write on the fly (thanks, teachers), draw sketches, take photos and recordings while looking at something else to make sure I don't miss anything. And I'm not half-bad with animation. Maybe not good enough to be an animation artist, but that's what the government's animation artists are for. Or maybe I am good enough. Shouldn't put myself down and all that - but still, risky business becoming an animation artist and my inspiration-source would have been the digital world anyway.

So yeah, recording mightn't be too bad and now I have to lodge the form after the next lottery.

If that fails, I might try molecular design. Still had to keep one science despite our freedom with subject choices, and chemistry was mine. My math skills can handle that much and while biology might have been easier, it's also a great deal more boring. And chemistry left this path open. See? I had been thinking ahead a little. Just enough not to dig myself into a hole.

And there's still a chance. One in two-hundred million or something like that, but there's a chance.

Three weeks till doom's day. One week till mid-terms because they're never too close to a lottery. That would be asking them to fail.

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[Several pages have been removed for brevity's sake. They contained only comments on the subjects of the writer and anxiety about the upcoming tests and lottery.]

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A week till doom's day. Tests are done and the results are out. Not that they matter much. The finals are what count. If you don't win the lottery, of course, because if you do then none of this counts.

I passed everything though. Barely when it came to chemistry but I managed it. The teacher says I'll have to do better if I want to be a molecular designer.

I don't. I want to be a Chosen. But trying harder's not going to rig the lottery.

Nothing else interesting.

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Five days before the lottery, my parents take me out to dinner in the restaurant and it's a rare treat. Maybe to get my mind off it. But there's no forgetting.

The lobster was nice though.

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Sick.

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Sick.

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Sick.

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Still sick, but can get out of bed without falling over. Sort of.

And vomiting.

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That lobster gave me food poisoning. Still not up to snuff and I feel like shit, but it's lottery day - or doom's day for me. I can't lay still.

Not that I was laying still the last few days. Tossing and turning and testing out the voice recogniser on my laptop because I couldn't get up and type commands instead. It took the edge off boredom anyway. Listened to songs and talk shows and thought about how the people on talk shows were no different to the common researcher...

Still have a few hours to kill before the big D at midday, but need to eat breakfast in there too and my stomach's still churning.

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Breakfast was a bad idea. Now my floor's a mess.

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Bedroom smells like potpourri. If it wasn't for the lottery I'd take the couch. Should fill my forms but I want so badly for them to be a waste so I won't. Same with homework.

I'll try reading.

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Can't read. A racing game instead.

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I give up. Can't get past that level between trips to the bathroom and I'm low on patience today.

Still an hour left.

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Filling the pokedex in the latest pokemon game. Can't for too long but it works in between mini-breaks and bathroom trips.

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Finally get a shiny. Ten minutes to go and now I feel like throwing up again.

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Threw up. Five minutes. I'll just close my eyes for a bit.

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Two minutes. Bit wasn't long enough. Chewing fingernails again. I'll need to find my nail clippers after this.

Kidding.

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One minute. Maybe I won't bite the actual finger this time. Still time for the commandments? Never got to them, did I?

Let's see...

1\. You are not to abuse your assigned partner in any way.  
2\. You are responsible for your partner's actions. If you believe he/she is acting inappropriately and/or against government regulations/orders and outside your control, you are to report it IMMEDIATELY.  
3\. You are not to use your partner for any conflict involving another Chosen unless approved by the government.  
4\. You are to prioritise government orders above -

Ten seconds! – 2 1 –


	2. Part 2

**A/N:** Same challenges as the previous chapter. :D Chapter 2/second candle: the chapter begins and ends with the same word

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 _[continuation]_

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Dud. Nothing. Rare thing and if it hadn't been my last lottery, I'd have been rolling in the bed, laughing.

Or maybe I wouldn't. Not sure my stomach could have taken it.

Sorry it's been a while.

Why am I apologising? You're a notebook. You're not sentient, and I'm sure the teachers understand last lottery disappointment. They probably watched the lottery too, wondering if one of their students would get picked. Hoping, maybe. Or maybe hoping they wouldn't, so they could be the same, do the same thing -

Not me. I've got no intention of becoming a teacher. Then again, if second chance decides to favour me, I'll be tagging along with the sort of people I wanted to initially be, the sort of people who got lucky, the sort of people everybody except they themselves were jealous of. So maybe it's not such a good idea.

But, honestly, what choice do I have? I really don't want to be a teacher.

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Special consultation, and the counsellor offers his condolences and they're as empty as my parents, as my teachers, as other classmates because they've all faced that disappoint (or are more than likely coming up to it). And then we move right on to business.

And there sure is a lot of it. It probably would have been easier not to wonder around on cloud nine - you know, that cloud where you're almost certain lady luck is going to come through for you? Yeah, that cloud. But, of course [a portion of the entry has been removed due to coarse language and redundancy.]

So yeah, the consultation. Mainly pointing out what marks I need to pull up, what areas of my study I need to focus on, what extra-curricular things I need to get started on so I can add them to my resume when the time comes, and what papers and forms and tests I need to apply for. And there's a lot of them. I'm not going to list them here because it's depressing and, honestly, more writing. After all, you're not going to fill out my forms for me. You don't even make a good reference book.

I don't know why I bother.

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Just kidding.

Did I hurt your feelings?

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You're a book. You don't have feelings.

And I've unofficially lost my marbles. Again.

Oh well. At least a book doesn't blab. Security's great like that. Kind of has to be otherwise the lottery kids ran the risk of getting murdered or something like that.

It's not a scary thought 'cause it can't happen, see? But that might be why. Or maybe the government ran into some trouble in its formation. Either way, we citizens don't have to worry about someone breaking into our homes, let alone cutting our throats while we sleep and splattering blood everywhere –

Though, apparently, they'd have to hit a major artery to get blood to whoosh out like that. Human biology's actually not so bad right now. Too bad I'm far below the cut-off to try for an MD. They start scouting people since primary school, you know? Looking for a particular mould, and they're not the only ones. Doctors, security, and government placements. They start the search early, because they only want the ones who fit their profile like a glove.

Suffice to say, I didn't fit the bill. And even if I had, I'd have lost the offer by now with my marks. Or maybe I'd have tried harder. I dunno. It's hard to think in hypotheticals when they really don't matter.

What matters is getting through all of these forms and applications and things.

.

Oh, look. I haven't lost things to count down to. Now that there's no more lottery, it's the tests littering my calendar. Have to pass most of them too. Have to do extra well in chemistry and computing. Which isn't as hard as it sounds. The teachers know we don't pay as much attention as we should when we're still in the running, so they'd give us lots of homework to make sure we were keeping up with the material.

But it's still tough. Still, I made this back-up decision on my own and, somewhere deep down, I always knew there was a possibility I wouldn't get drawn. And I do have to live my life.

Lucky I like chemistry.

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Maybe the lottery was a bit of a stopper. Or a downer.

I don't like chemistry. I love it! Sticking little beads together with straws was fun in primary school, but it takes on a whole different complexity by this point and now I'm free to plan ahead. Like thinking how silly it is to have this dangly bit over here that doesn't do anything and just bumps into any wall that passes, or no wonder this one slips through every barrier the body puts up, because it's so round and tiny and it doesn't have any long dangly bits that can get it stuck in a filter –

[ _there are some molecular figures here – simple stick figures, and more chemistry-related jibberish.]_

Or maybe I'm just high on something right now.

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I have to make the most of this, right?

Well, it's kind of sunk in but now there's the whole I have to pass this! Man, it's worse than waiting for the lottery. And I can't even count down because I need to study study study.

I think I'll take a break from you until these tests are over.

I don't want to be a teacher. Not even as a last resort. But it's everyone's last resort.

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 _[There are no entries for a month.]_

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I passed all but one. Luckily, I was in that 1% that got a resit and I passed it the second time. Much easier to study for an exam when you don't have ten others knocking on your door. Much harder when you know it's the do or die one.

Well, I did it. Welcome to molecular chemistry, Hotaka Satoru.

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Someone forgot to tell me there was more learning involved.

Or, they didn't really, but it's easy to forget you have to study more to be a professional. Connecting molecules together and getting results is the fun part. Doing all the preliminary work really isn't…and guess what? Newbies get stuck doing twice as much preliminary work and hardly any of the actual creating.

Or that's how it was for us. Apparently it's usually worse. A lot worse.

But there's some sort of problem that's sucking people from the middle of the ladder right out of the system, so we newbies get a bit more in the hands on department.

I'm not complaining, whatever the reason.

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Finally got my firstborn compound to crystallise.

Put it in a Kuramon.

Dud.

Figures.

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I'm complaining.

Rumour in the lab is that digimon are involved. I dunno how because the Chosen are supposed to keep it under control, and if there is a problem they can't handle, they either grab more Chosen or send in security (and security, the people that is, are _brutal_ ).

So how are digimon involved? Well, that's the thing. Nobody really knows. Some of the older ones (the ones still stuck in the bottom rungs of the ladder because they haven't proven themselves enough to march higher – not that you _can_ march on a ladder, I guess. Climb? Oh, who cares.

Anyway, the rumours. They say it's all a government conspiracy. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense. What happens to the Chosen then? Where do the Kuramon come from, and the other digimon that help in the running of our city? Granted, we don't see an awful lot of them, but we know they're there. Like the HiAndromon who programmes the computer stuff. It's thanks to advances from him and digimon of his line that we have the evolutionary advances we have.

The old geezers say they've done a good job brainwashing us.

Maybe the fumes have messed with their head. Was this really a good idea?

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Hello, fume cupboard.

Of course, crystal number two failed too.

Three looks like it might make it to the in-training stage. The stage where we can work out whether it does what we want it to or not.

Cause the babies either react or don't. They're basic binary.

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The lab empties further. I get my Tsumemon batch more easily than I'd expected (and more easily than the briefs we initially received said I would).

The rumours are still scampering around. Until this government official comes in one day and most of them shut up. One doesn't. Big mouth gets dragged away by a gigantic digimon no-one knows the name of (but, well, it has to be a digimon because what human can scrape the ceiling like that?)

It's silence afterwards too. That might've given more fruit to the whole government conspiracy theory, or maybe the government's just concerned they'll riot. The place is full of developing drugs after all, and the viruses they're being developed for. Dangerous stuff. So they need rigorous controls.

Note to self: eternally watch your mouth, and ears, in this place.

In the silence, I don't have much to do but try crystal 3 on the Tsumemon and cross my fingers.

But really, when has luck ever been on my side?

Back to the drawing board.

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Did I honestly have to spell it out?

Fine. It was another dud.


	3. Part 3

**A/N:** Third candle: there was a phone call last week of some relevance.

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 _[continued]_

Sorry I haven't written in a while. Got whisked off for the last week without having much of a chance to pack. Whisked from work, actually.

Why do I keep apologising to you? You're a book.

Anyway… Apparently they rang. Labs have funny hours though. You sort of run the show yourself and money and paperwork are time. If you can't show what you're doing, and why it'll bring money back in (when it succeeds – it can take years to get there and drain a lot of resources first, so you can see how good the reasoning has to be to justify that…), then you don't get paid – or you'll be out of a job, but that's rare. Just log your experiments and all your failures and keep track of your expenses and make sure you're trying to save the human race somewhere in there, and it all works out fine.

So yeah, they said they rang. I must've been in the lab then. Actually had another crystallised compound to test out in the Keramon models. I have to get back and check on them too, but they've waited a week. They can wait a little longer.

So yeah. They got tired of waiting for me to pick up and just marched to the lab and dragged me out. They don't get if I get docked a month's pay for wasting resources. Then again, they get paid an arm and a leg to be in the positions they are, overseeing the city, overseeing even the lottery.

And you thought you'd heard the last of the lottery. Apparently not.

See, there's this thing called overdraft. Only happens in times the digital world is in a bout of trouble. They don't want to send kids into big trouble but it's not quite _so_ big to need the military, so they cast a lottery on the adults instead. Everyone who's already failed the lottery and have had to move on to other jobs. A sort of second chance, except it's pretty much a myth.

Or was. Apparently I did have some luck, because they pulled my ID out of there.

So I'm going to the digital world after all.

Of course, they have a reason for picking adults, and it's not just about age. It's about life experiences and things. Basically, it's about whatever skills we've acquired from our day jobs – or our crazy schedule job. Mine's messing with the structures of things I can't really see, connecting them together and everything, so I've no idea how that's going to be relevant in any shape or form… but one of the things about adult Chosen is we get to take anything that can potentially help us along.

For example, that drug I injected into the Keramon to cure stuff and wound up killing it instead? Illegal chemical weapon in most scenarios, but here's a time it can actually be of use.

Unfortunately, I threw it out. Actually, no. I disposed of it properly.

Funny how I suddenly want my Keramon tomorrow to be dead. Otherwise I'm going to be in a spot of trouble, because I don't think the old geezers who deal with funding will be too pleased with me replicating a failed experiment simply to equip myself with the chemical equivalent of a gun against digimon.

Actually, that's another thing I'll have to think about. Keramon are one thing, but how can I deliver digitoxic powder to a larger and more brainy digimon?

.

Hell yeah! The one and only time in my adult life that I'll be glad for failure, I imagine. But the Keramon batch are dead. Every last one of them. And decomposing. Whatever I did knocked them out good. I'm surprised I didn't get any complaints left on my desk. They might've gone straight to the boss, though. Or someone just ramped up the ventilation system and ignored things otherwise. Some of the experiments do generate fumes, after all.

Anyway, I had a drug that I hadn't disposed of properly and I could actually use. This one's powder too, when you get down to it. But that comment on guns I made earlier made me think of the answer. Gunpowder! Mix in some sulphur, charcoal and saltpepper and you've got explosives. And of course I know how to make explosives. Every chemist worth their pay knows how to do it. It's like chemistry 101. The kids who like to cause trouble can do it too. The downside of being so electronically advanced is that everyone can get hold of everything.

Yeah, yeah, why didn't I have you in that week off? I told you, I didn't stop home.

I'll take you to the digital world, you big baby.

Or maybe you're not a baby. For some reason though, I'm imagining you'd be a girl with crocodile tears if you ever could.

Oh yeah, never did explain why they took me for a whole week. There's actually a bunch of aptitude tests after the lottery. Just getting your name drawn doesn't guarantee you a spot on the next digital world expedition, but I guess the kids who fail theirs don't like to talk about it, and it's not like people know each other's lottery numbers. Except doctors and government officials and things like that. But they kind of have to know all that stuff, I guess.

So did all those aptitude tests. Some of them are physical and so the body needs a break in between. And then mental stuff and medical stuff and a few things I didn't really get but went along with. And I must have passed all of them because they sent me back with a departure date and a few instructions. Things to prepare for. Like avoiding certain things in the diet, avoiding certain exposures, making sure I don't wind up leaving any experiments at the crucial stage (so it's a good thing I've got to the point where I'm at, because I need to redo the experiment anyway to actually see what happened in that week I wasn't there to observe).

So yeah, lots to do.

I still can barely believe it.

.

Sixteen days. It'll take me at least ten to replicate the experiment, and I need to get a will done apparently too. And talk to my parents and workplace and stuff. It's going to be pretty busy.

And the changes to my diet are a little dull. They want us to have a low salt concentration in our bodies and food's bland without salt. And the automatic cooker complains about the lack of salt too. Like I've forgotten instead of trying to follow instructions to the letter. But it's not worth changing the programme in the short term. I won't be sticking to the programme when I get back. After all, overdraft is temporary recruitment. Something like calling in the reserves for a one-time adventure.

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Thirteen days. The powder's ready – quite a bit spare but enough to test on a new batch of Keramon. Actually, not new and not an entire batch anyway. One of the other people in the lab (and where's everyone else? The place is so empty) had a different sort of dud – the sort where the Keramon are roaming around happily after being nicely dosed up. So they need to be disposed of, and what better way than observing a digitoxic drug and killing two birds with one stone.

So yep, that's all set up now. Only problem is if that drug of his is still in the system – she says she can't detect it at all. I'll take my chances. I won't have to grovel for mass-producing that dud by taking the cost out of what I'm saving with a Keramon crate.

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Twelve days. The Keramon are still alive but they smell like they're burning.

I check them under the X-ray. They are burning, inside and out. Weird.

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Eleven days. The Keramon are dead, and still burning.

What the heck did I do? That stuff's potent, whatever it is.

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Ten days. Still burning, but I think I figured it out. Sort of like oxidation on organic cells, except the digital equivalent.

Well, I hadn't been trying to make something that worked with digimon, but guidelines state we can't test them on humans until they pass the digimon stage. Even if they're totally different internally.

Well anyway. I know they stop burning before seven days because I didn't have an inkling last time.

(That's seven days from the dose, not seven days to deployment.)

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Eight days. The Keramon have finally stopped burning. They look pretty awful though. I'd attach a picture if I could but not allowed. Pictures have to stay in lab reports only.

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Six days. Even the smell of burning is gone.

I dispose of them properly.

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Five days. Finished up the paperwork, and submitted my leave of absence at the same time. Got them all stamped too.

No more work until I'm back from the digital world!

Still can barely believe it. Dream come true.

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Four days. Had to get the will done.

That was a bit scary. All that talk about how I might die.

Though I've never heard of anyone dying in the digital world. Then again, never met any Chosen up close either. They all get stellar government positions when they come back out. Except the overdraft. But no-one really knew about the overdraft so who knows. They might have a way of keeping us quiet.

They weren't very clear on those things.

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Three days left.

Going to visit my folks now.


	4. Part 4

**A/N:** Fourth candle: there is an unexpected visitor today.

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 _[continued]_

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My parents weren't expecting me. Mainly because I hadn't told them I was coming. Might have forgotten to. It would have been a good idea, anyway.

Worked out though. My parents were home. And happy to see their only son. And there was plenty of supplies in the fridge. No problem in cooking for an extra person. Not that cooking took a lot of effort on any one person's part, with the automations.

We chatted about things. How work was going. What I'd been told about the digital world. Sadly, I had to watch what I said. Most of the stuff to do with the digital world is confidential. Everybody knows that.

Actually, I'm a little surprised my parents asked so many questions. And they don't look that happy, either. They're happy to see me, I mean. But not so happy I'm being whisked off to the digital world.

It makes me wonder, if I had been drawn as a kid, would they have overruled it as my parents? Forced a redraw? Or was it something that had happened more recently that was bothering them?

I dunno. Three days before departure isn't really the time to be thinking about those sorts of things.

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Two days. I slept over at my parent's house overnight. They talk about how I should start thinking about marriage. I laugh it off.

It's actually quite easy. There's a few ways to do it. The old classic dating system, though it's rarely used now. Those are more for flings. For one night stands. The true marriage is rarely trusted to our flimsy hearts. Like everything else, test scores and our digital imprint decide in most cases.

So one can either go into another sort of lottery, or go for the affinity matchings.

Most people go for the affinity matchings the first time round. The few whose marriages break up then try luck. But it's so rare that most people are happy with the first choice. Or accepting of it, anyway. There isn't a whole lot of passion involved in the process.

Anyway, I don't need to get married now. Two days before departure also isn't a good time to be thinking about a future husband or wife.

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One day. Last minute packing time. And checking over the will they posted to me.

It's nothing fancy. I've got the apartment. And a little bit of my salary in the bank. After all, I'm still on base salary. That's not much when you're living on your own. Granted, you also don't need much more until you're ready for vacations or brothel visits or fancy shopping. I've been busy with work. No time for those yet. And I'm still eighteen. Not legal for everything yet.

For some reason or other, the new world order's kept the old Japanese rule that you can't get drunk till twenty.

Still another two years. Sad how the digital world lottery doesn't go up to 20 too. Or lucky maybe. Because otherwise I might've missed this chance as well.

One day.

It's actually happening.

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 _[lots of illegible scribbles. For brevity and the lack of an ability to translate, they have been removed from the transcript]_

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Finally! I could barely sleep last night. The stylus certainly got a workout.

Anyway, I'm all packed. Using the phone to type now, because I can't well be lugging my desk computer to the digital world. Not taking much anyway. We were advised to travel light. So a few changes of clothes, my supply of explosive digitoxins (carefully packed, of course. Who do you take me for?), three knives (my cooker is mad about losing them, I think, even though it's not going to be cooking while I'm gone), and a rope and other stuff that was recommended. Standard stuff, mostly.

Just waiting for my ride now.

It's almost time.

.

God damn it. Someone could have mentioned electronics wouldn't work in the digital world. Or not normal ones anyway. Or maybe they'd known someone on the team was an electronics expert and could make them work.

Honestly, I nearly scratched my hair out.

There's so much to tell!

Okay, first I was driven to…somewhere. The ride was completely dark, and so was the room. Until it flashed blue and code appeared on the walls. And then we were standing in a desert.

By desert, I mean me and the others selected in the overdraft.

There are six of us. Me, of course. And the guy who fixed my phone so I can continue my diary. They found it silly, at first. Except one of the girls. She wanted to be a reporter, but she didn't pass her recording exams. The ones I'd been too afraid of failing myself to try. And we didn't have a reporter in our group.

After that, they decided it was probably a good idea for someone to be recording their journey.

Anyway, the girl had a diary too, so I wasn't the only one.

So yeah, the six of us.

Hotaka Satoru (me) – eighteen and nine months. Junior oncotics designer. Not that I've designed a successful anti-cancer drug yet.

Yushima Nabae – twenty and four months. Junior technicians officer. Which means he's a cut above the junior technician stage and get our phones working, even with all the interference in the digital world.

Yomada Sana – nineteen and six months. Student teacher for the kindergarten/junior primary level. She's the one who tried and failed her reporters exam. Dunno what skills she's going to bring to us though. Teacher isn't very helpful in this setting.

Mayuri Toshiki – twenty. Literally. His birthday's today. And his wedding anniversary. I mean, seriously! Anyway, he's a medical student (that's one of the things you need to study post-school to do, and study for _years_ ). And married, though they don't have kids yet. And emotional. He's cried for his wife three times before Yushima got the devices working.

Tachibana Kiyo – twenty one and two months. She's low level security. The sort that are always in crowded places like convenience stores. Not the proper security that watch the city from the shadows. But she's brought a gun. And a stun gun. And knives enough for all of us (though somehow we all brought knives. Must be the scary aspect of it all).

Ryoji Suo – the oldest of us at thirty two and eight months. And the most experienced in his work. Except he's a history teacher. Same problem as Yomada. Don't know how that's going to help in the digital world.

So yeah, that's all of us. And we're still sitting in the desert, because though Ryoji packed a compass, we don't know which direction water is in.

Didn't the brief say something about us getting some sort of device? Well, they're not here. All the stuff we brought with us are. And we dug in the sand a bit too. We can't find those devices.

And the information we have without them is pretty limited.

Our options, as it stands, are these:

We find a local and hope they're the friendly sort.  
We find water.  
We sit on our butts until we run out of what water (and food) we have between us, and then go bye-bye.  
We separate and try all of the above, and then contact each other with our phones if we find anything, and risk being too far away in the other direction.  
We strike a direction and hope we bump into something along the way. Because the desert can't be infinite.  
We dig down until we hit a water source.

So six people, six ideas. This is working out just great, and in the mean time, the sun is hot and we're slowly draining our water bottles. Which is a bad idea when or if we do start to move, but we can't help it.

At this rate though, we may have to wait for the option seven. Hope someone comes and rescues us.

Except Ryoji's had enough. 'We've got to do something,' he says. 'If we can't decide what's best, then we'll decide randomly.'

Basically, each idea got an item. Mayuri had packed different sorts of bandaids and bandages and they had the same sort of packet (to us who didn't know a whole lot about them). We each picked one out except him. The one left was the one that had "strike a random direction" written on it.

For the record, that's Tachibana's idea. And now that luck has spoken, we'd better get going.

If I don't write again, assume we've all died of thirst.

.

We picked a good direction. We don't just run into water. We run into a village! And they're friendly too, thank goodness.

The digimon that live here are called Armadillamon. They're peaceful digimon, who just want to nap all day. They have a water hole though, and they're happy to let us drink and fill our bottles. And tell us what they know about the world.

It's not much. All they really know is enemies appear every now and then, and children to defeat them. And then more enemies, and more children, and no-one knows what happens to the previous children. Maybe they die? Maybe they just go home and grow older? Maybe they're the same children?

'You haven't heard of any adults coming here?' we ask.

They haven't. They haven't met any children either.

'So where's the current enemy?' we ask.

'Where it always is,' they reply, sounding all of a sudden strange. 'At the Centre of the World.'

.

We left the Armadillamon village the next day. We discussed what we'd learnt in the interim. Ryoji in particular seemed suspicious that the enemies always appeared in the same area. Yomada thought he might be thinking too much into it. Mayuri thought they were jumping the gun. Yushima thought the answer might be at the Centre. I thought they were jumping the gun as well, but the Centre seems like a good place to explore.

Not directly though. It also sounds like a dangerous place to explore.

But since we want to know the truth, we're going anyway.


	5. Part 5

**A/N:** Final candle: the letters "s", "f" and "u" should appear together (ie. in the same word) in at least five different words. The words are **f** eat **u** re **s** , con **fus** ion, **fu** ture **s** , **suf** fer, and **suf** fered.

And this last chapter gets…confusing. Because of that, I'm letting you know here that this is a prequel, and there'll be a main fic following…eventually. Still whittling down my WIP list atm, and I'm not sure how long the main fic will be at this stage. But it will bloom into existence one day! And it will be called The True Centre of the World.

Until then, enjoy the final instalment of this journal!

.

 _._

 _[continued]_

It takes a few days to get to the Centre of the World. In the end, all we had to do was march straight. Some digimon helped us. Others fought. It tended to be a size thing so we avoided the bigger ones and it seemed to work.

Until we got to the Centre of the World.

Then things got a little weird, because –

 _._

 _[the file is badly damaged from this point on. Below is what was salvaged, along with external reports piercing together what occurred.]_

.

The knight… we… the enemy…

Digimon… against us! The humans!

 _[From this, we assume the Hotaka and company have crossed paths with the Royal Knights, the security system of the Centre of the World. They are actually security features of the real world: the final security, and in the Centre of the World lies the source of our livelihood. And that is why evil always appears near there, and we must always defend it._

 _It is also why some digimon perceive us as the enemy. Because the source of our livehood is in their world, and therefore brings trouble to them._

 _But we also give them protection, at a cost to our own people. So they should be grateful for that._

 _The humans in our world should be grateful for the prosperity of their nation as well.]_

.

We withdrew. The… were too strong. We didn't use the explosives yet. Or the guns. Those are our last resort. For the main enemy.

We need a plan now though.

 _[We are not sure what enemy the group had to fight to reach the main enemy, because the Knights would know to let humans past. Although none of the three bodies we retrieved had terminals on them though. Perhaps they could not prove they had been sent by us, and were attacked to prevent a breach. If so, that is an unfortunate turn of events._

 _And, indeed, Mayuri Toshiki was killed by lacerations from a sword.]_

.

Mayuri… is dead.

He had a wife.

…up like this? Why… attack…

…used a bomb. And one set of refills.

 _[We searched the area, and though we found scorch marks, the bullets and powder leftover from the explosion seem to have vanished.]_

.

Inside… the enemy. Black ma…

 _[We assume the ma… means master, but we cannot be sure.]_

Black… Ryoji dead.

No time to…

I threw my bomb.

…fell out.

Yushima's dead.

…

We're screwed.

 _[From this, we understand that the enemy could, in a sense, fractionate itself. The bomb only destroyed a part, and it fell to the ground like a complete body, but the rest regenerated or held itself together. With no specimen to observe, we cannot be sure._

 _What we can be sure of is that one of the three missing did survive long enough to leave us this account. We cannot be sure that what's written from hereon in was the owner of the diary, Hotaka Satoru, or not. It may have been Tachibana Kiyoshi. Most likely, though, is Yomada Sana, because of what was salvaged from the following entry._

 _Unfortunately, though she is the only one of the six we recovered, we cannot ask her. She is in no condition to answer.]_

 _._

Children…

…little kids…

…play hide and seek. 1,2,3…

…boom…

.

 _[Three days after the dispatch of this team, we sent in another team. By coincidence, one of the people drawn from the lottery was Hotaka Mamoru, the father of Hotaka Satoru. They were the ones who retrieved this phone, along with a few other belongings and the three bodies and Yomada Sana._

 _Unfortunately, they had no time to search for the missing two. The original team had failed in its objective to kill the enemy._

 _We'd under-estimated them._

 _This team was able to do so, and bring back the spoils, but unfortunately, most succumbed to their wounds and died._

 _We express our deepest sympathies to the families who have lost loved ones due to this incident._

 _A team has been dispatched to search for Hotaka Satoru and Tachibana Kiyoshi.]_

.

 _[Three months later._

 _Neither of the two missing have been retrieved. It is worrying, because the digital world is not compatible with human bodies. They cannot survive there indefinitely, and without terminals, they have no way of knowing this, or knowing the way back._

 _We will not stop however until we find their bodies, so their families, at least, can have peace._

 _In a separate but related incidence, Yomada Sana has escaped her high security ward (where she was being treated after her experience in the digital world). Her escape has given us some vital clues to the identity of the enemy._

 _She could not have escaped without help. In other words, somebody hacked into the system and set her loose._

 _The poor woman will likely hang herself in her confusion. We may never find the body in this large city._

 _We mourn for her loss. And we mourn that we were unable to save at least her life.]_

 _._

 _[Six months later, the case has come to a close._

 _Hotaka Satoru and Yomada Sana, though considered dead, are still missing. Their bodies have not been retrieved. We did however find Tachibana Kiyoshi's body. The details cannot be disclosed._

 _We also found the perpetrators of the incident. And we regret to inform that humans from our very city were involved._

 _As of yet, we have not determined their motives. And we are missing too many pieces to perhaps ever manage it._

 _What we do know is this:_

 _A group of humans threatened the Centre of the World. They created or corrupted a digimon with a virus, and it became the enemy of the digital world. Our sensors picked it up and then the current generation Chosen were dispatched. They were all defeated, though we recovered them safely and nothing suggested adults would be in more danger._

 _We did an overdraft lottery and sent in six adults._

 _They suffered a more brutal blow. Three died on the scene. One did about four months later from what looks like digital degeneration. There were however other marks on her body we cannot explain._

 _Two adults are still missing, and of them, one is clinically deranged following her experience. Or was. Likely they are both dead now._

 _We sent in another group. They became casualties as well, but they defeated the system – or so we thought._

 _They were randomly selected by the overdraft, or so we thought._

 _It turned out they'd hacked into the computer and put themselves forth as martyrs – to correct the wrong they'd caused._

 _Yes, that second group of adults were involved. So were others. We are not sure how many, how many are still loose in the world. If you fear someone was involved in this incident that threatened our very city, our very world, then please come forward with that information._

 _In the interim, the security levels have been raised. New trigger words have been added to the database. More eyes are on the lookout. We cannot let the Centre of the World be threatened like this again._

 _We are also re-evaluating the Chosen and overdraft systems. Children are chosen because their bodies are safe from regeneration for a time. The same does not apply for adults. We also don't understand why the children were protected while the adults were fatally struck. The people who hacked the system made changes that have cost our citizens their lives._

 _Rest assured that we will put an end to this, and put measures in place to prevent this from happening again. Chosen will still be required because only they can safely enter and exit the Digital World without degenerating. However we will reinforce our systems so that they cannot be hacked again._

 _Perhaps it is our mistake that we grew complacent with the system. We built it as a defence, thinking surely no-one would want to disrupt the stability and prosperity of our world. We were, in retrospect, incorrect. Now we have made a more attacking wall. No-one will enter it without our knowledge. No-one will part without our knowledge. We are confident in this new wall. We dare the remaining perpetrators to attempt to break it, and we implore the loyal citizens to never try and rest assured that such an incident will never happen again._

 _You may lay your doubts to rest.]_

.

 _[One year later…_

 _The one year memorial services are held for the six people who lost their lives fighting an act of terrorism initiated in our very town. We also acknowledge the sacrifice of six men who realised their folly and attempted to correct it, and gave their lives to do so._

 _We also recognise that the sins of the father are not the sins of the son. The reason we have included earlier entries in this account is to show you the sort boy Hotaka Satoru was. A boy who, like most boys and girls of this age, dreamed of being a Chosen. A boy with whom was little luck. He did not become a Chosen. Instead, he went on to a different career, as much of us must. He had a deadly weapon at his disposal, from sheer luck. He did not strive to use it against the world, but only to protect himself when, it seemed, luck had smiled upon him after all._

 _It was unfortunate the digitoxin he inadvertently created was not enough to defeat the enemy they faced, because it was not entirely digital. It was unfortunate the digitoxin could not spare his life, or the lives of his companions. However, it has allowed us to enhance our protections in the Centre of the World. Inaffective against humans, but no digimon can pass it. And we have added a new layer against humans as well. A layer we previously neglected._

 _I repeat this again: the Centre of the World is now impenetrable, by humans and digimon and even animals. Every species that exists in both worlds has one or more potent toxin against it and with these, we have created the ultimate barrier. The Centre of the World will not be breached again, though enemy digimon will arise for our Chosen to defeat in the controlled environment it has otherwise always been._

 _This is a black page in our otherwise prosperous history, and rest assured we will not allow such a thing to happen again. Our futures will not be blackened like this again._

 _We pray for the souls of the departed, and the mourning who suffer their losses. Their sacrifices will always be remembered, despite the black page they mar.]_

 _[end of account]_


End file.
